Wasini

Wasini island was once considered by the Reagen administration as a Navy base for the Indian Ocean. Thankfully he dropped the idea. Wasini is like Lamu 50 years ago. Lena and me were the only Mzungus for the whole stay. We stocked up on alcohol in Shimoni, which lies on the mainland, because there is no alcohol on the island. Another conservative place with friendly people.

Lena is great fun and made me laugh a lot. We asked the funny hotel staff for the way to the beach. We followed their directions and ended up walking through seaweed for about 3 hours before being absolutely sure that there is no beach. We rested in a nice elevated lodge and watched the flood coming in. Then we strolled through the second village of the island bought some bananas and walked back through the center of the island since the tide was high. At one point we thought that we had to wade through the mangroves - so we did. But while standing in the mud in murky waters we saw some other people walking along the beach. We assumed they knew where they were going and hoped that they wont see the two stupid Mzungus standing in the middle of nowhere - they didn't. We followed their tracks and found our way. A beautiful walk with a beautiful lady.

In the evening we knew that Wasini doesn't have a lot to offer so she brought up the idea to go to Mombasa Backpackers, since I was telling stories about this place all the time.

We spent three more days at Mombasa before she had to go back to the slum of Nairobi to spend the money she raised from friends back home. A good women doing good things.

Diani

The stilt hostel is well in the second row of Diani beach hidden behind high trees. The stilt houses are very cute but a bit out of my league so I camped in my tent close to the main road, but still in the forest. The cool thing is that the trees are almost constantly frequented by monkeys. They were also checking out my tent while I was sleeping in it and throwing sticks on it. The main building is a bit elevated and lets you enjoy the breeze. Each evening the "bush babies" that look like lemurs showed up to eat two bananas out of the guests hands.

I met some cool people here, above all Lena from Austria. Sadly she left after two days to go to Lamu. I chilled most of the time in the fantastic "40 thieves" bar at the beach. Then there were Henry and Tom who are 2 years before becoming doctors in England and did an internship in a Rwandan Hospital. They were good fun and we went on the piss together. People were showing up during the whole week and most of them made sense. One English girl didn't. She was visiting her boyfriend at the Kenyan coast after been separated for 2 months. He gave her the shoe after she arrived. But she couldn't quit her love to him and was hopeful since they were sharing the same hotel room. But one night he left with 3 prostitutes without saying goodbye. She just did what English can do best - she drank. This ritual repeated it self during my whole stay, until she finally gave in to her emotions and cried. The last thing I heard is that she flew home.

Lena showed up again 5 days later after visiting Lamu. We met up and spent one more day in Diani and then left to the remote region at the Tanzanian border to the Island of Wasini.

Tiwi

After staying in Mombasa Backpackers for another few days I hitched a ride with some friends who live in Dar Es Salaam. Mzunugus trying to sell condoms to rich people and handing them out for free to the poor. The main problem with the condom business in East Africa at the moment is a simple one. US AID bought condoms from China. A huge amount apparently sufficient for years. But they bought the ones that are being used in the Western world. Which means the diameter is 50mm. While Asians usually use 48mm and Africans a stunning 52mm diameter. Now the Africans have to use the tight 50mm condoms and because of Newtons law they break a lot. Well and yes the other BIG problem is AIDS.

We arrived at the beach and hassled are way through the beach boys who had dollar signs in their eyes. After drinking some beer the weather had changed and was not suitable for swimming anymore. The camping ground is right at the beach between the palm trees. We made a deal with one of the beach boys to bring us vegetables, fish and a pan. Surprisingly he returned. We cooked and ate the sandy fish which I prepared in the way I learned in Lamu. The Hungarian boss of the group was pretty drunk, his US wife past out early. The attorney just sat there without words. I felt really sober in comparison.

The next day I woke up hung over and alone - the other tents were gone. I decided to stay some more days and not to meet anybody. Solitude is a concept the beach boys don't respect. Constantly I was told another sad story about economical misfortune or post election violence. I feel bad for the guys and understand there resignation, but they just keep coming. But after they got the message that I wont buy anything from them, they sort of gave me the space I desired. Tent, camp fire, beer, stars, ocean and palm trees.

Pate and Manda Toto Islands

Mangroves are dominating the scene, the blue calm water splashes on the sides, the wind is pushing us forward, three sailor balance the boat, the captain is smoking weed and steering this nautical wonder based on centuries of Swahili culture. Water is coming in, the sailor has to get it out with an old bucket. The Mzungus are chilling. The sun is blazing down on us. Timmy is wearing the turban from India to protect his increasingly unprotected head skin. The wind is gone - we're in the middle of a channel between two Islands. A big ship with too many passenger passes us. The captain throws a rope. We're getting pulled up the channel. The channel ends. The favourable wind pulls us directly to Pate. The sea is getting a bit choppier, but in a good way.

Pate Island comes closer. No sign of civilization, besides a dock with 3 vans on it. The boat is trembling - we have arrived on the seashore. The sailors bring out there cooking equipment. Charlie is getting stoned with Teea. Fish is cooking on the wooden grill, donkeys yyyaaaahhh from the tree next to the dock. The water was refreshing and the food is ready.

No movement in the group, everybody has licked there fingers and is concentrating on digesting. Dawn is coming up: Charlie wants to see some relatives he has on this island. It is a 20 min walk through the bushes on a beaten path. The village is pristine. The elder people are sitting on benches. The kids are playing with tyres. The mzungus feel out of place and stick to each other. The kids curiously check us out - we start to play with them. They roll there tyres up and down the village and eventually out of it. Digital cameras flash, kids are screaming to see them self on the display. Everybody settles down to see the sun doing the same thing. Cool. We have to head back to the beach and set up the tent before darkness kicks in. On the way we collect firewood. Mzungus open wine bottles and sit around the fire. The tent has written "UNICEF" on it. A cold night is coming up. I sleep outside the tent next to the dwindling fire.

Morning has broken, headache. The tide is low and the boat stuck in the sand. We have to wait for high tide. Sleeping, chatting, bathing are the preferred time killers. Tide is here. We are sailing to Manda Toto with headwind, which means we have to zig zag are way back. It takes a long time. The sun is relentless. Finally, Manda Toto is just in front of us. Sand between the toes. After taking a dip we make sure we wont run out of wood like the night before. In the evening we try are luck with fishing. The fishing line is wrapped around a wooden plate and has the essentials: hook and weight. Timmy looses confidence while standing in the mud, in the dark and getting hooked in the roots of the mangroves regularly. Impatience, frustration - shit don't work man. We decide to relocate to the beach. Small waves are gently covering are feet. After two hours we catch18 fish, small but big enough and two of them from me. Feeling manly. After cutting out the intestines and covering them with oil, salt, lemon and garlic they are on the grill. Everybody seems happy with the situation. We are the only ones on the Island. Crabs invade are tent regularly, the girls are screaming, the boys are laughing and hiding their disgust of the archaic looking animals. No liqueur around means everybody sleeps early. Timmy sleeps badly and wakes up before dawn. He takes care of the fire. He heads of to walk around the island. Long stretches of beaches ahead. Dead mangroves cast a long shadow in the perfectly flat sand. Further ahead the beach gets more narrow pushed together by the force of the Indian Ocean and the wind shaped rocks of the island. Beautiful. Mangrove forests ahead. I enjoy the loneliness. I wade through the shallow waters. Crabs, sea worms, mosquitos but mostly crabs. Tide is coming and makes me think I should turn around. Nope, not happening. I can walk out a hundred meters without being knee deep in the water. The light is amazing. Water is getting deeper, the mangroves suddenly thicker. Am I close to where I started? Decision time: Do I go through the mangroves, which could get ugly very fast or do I go through the deep water and try to pass? I am in the water to my chest. Maybe this was not such good idea. The depth is steady. I am advancing. Feels like being in a Vietnam movie walking through a river with the camera (gun) in relative safety above the head.It's done, I'm back, everybody is already up and ready to leave. We board and head back.

Lamu

Lamu, Kenyas oldest living town, is protected by UNESCO World Heritage status. It is a old Swahili trading hub. Their culture and language is now dominating East Africa's societies. Tourism has picked up and is able to cater semi demanding travellers.

The road to the ferry pick up point is in a bad shape and buses have been regularly robbed by Somali gangs. The government has solved the problem with stepping up security and placing two corrupt soldiers with AK47 into every bus. The seafront is also the harbour for the Swahili dhows that ankor there after week long fishing trips all the way up to Somali waters. Apparently they sometimes see pirates, but the Somalis don't bother about the little fish.

I met Teea from Finland right after arriving, whom I knew from Mombasa Backpackers. She was in a week old relationship with Charlie - A Swahili, Muslim dhow captain who smokes weed all day during Ramadan. Since Lamu is rather conservative it is hard to find a drinking hole. The Lamu Police Cantine was the best thing around and is used by the local Christian alcoholics and the occasional tourist. The bartender and the fridge is behind bars. Local people pass out early around here because they love their coconut rum.

The narrow alleys of old town are cool and full of life. Men in pyjamas walk with women hidden behind full body, black robes. Donkeys (the only transport on the island) carry cement, flower, bricks, rice, vegetables and other things to their next destination. The market place in the center of town is the loudest part of town, where people bargain and gesticulate.

As a tourist you get hassled a lot by the beach boys. They are hard to describe. Above all they want to sell you something, but they also want to be your friend and try to be as cool and chilled out as possible. Annoyingly indifferent to anything in a not genuine way. At least Teea's boyfriend was cool. Maybe because he was currently getting laid with a Mzungu. So we hanged out together most of the time and ate at his familys place. After 2 days of chilling we decided to go with him and his dhow to some islands in the Lamu archipelago. 3 days and 2 nights on a Swahili boat trip for 60$ per person with food. Since it is easy to organize other participants if your skin is white, I found a South African and an English girl in no time and we were ready to go the next day.

Malindi

The Portuguese Capitano Vasco de Gama used to sail the Indian Ocean and ended up in Malindi to build a small settlement. The small settlement is now a big town that caters mostly wealthy Italian tourist. No shortage of Pizzerias around here. The beach is vast, but gets very hot during the day, so people stay on the main road that passes through town. Prostitution is once again big, even though Malindi is predominately Muslim. I guess it's the poison of the West

I didn't like Malindi to much, so I reflected on my journey and enjoyed the time for my self.

Kilifi

Imagine a place on the white sand beach of coastal Kenya and a huge river that forms a bay which is in the middle of town. A decent hotel elevated on a hillside overlooking the fishing dhows and ex pads yachts parked in the bay and sipping beers away with a girl from Texas.

A picturesque place - at least at the surface - which contrasts to the buzz of Mombasa which I experienced for the last 40 days. The lack of restaurants forced us into the posh but no pricey local Yacht Club. We took some nice strolls along the beach and the backwaters and were met everywhere by polite, unemployed males trying to sell something or squatters who have given up a long time ago. But people are extremely friendly or at least act like it.

Anyway I had a beautiful time in Kilifi and recommend it for a two night stop over to enjoy the red setting on the green bay area.